


Not Here...Not Now, Please!

by firecracker189



Series: Our Little Family [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Age Regression, Gen, Mommy!Natasha, Non-Sexual Age Play, Wetting, daddy!Bucky, daddy!Phil, little!Clint, little!steve, nsap, steve just has an all around bad day, until his daddy makes it better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecracker189/pseuds/firecracker189
Summary: Steve has an accident when he's big. Luckily for him his team (family) is there to help. And Bucky is absolutely the best Daddy ever. Special shoutout to Uncle Phil for being amazing too.





	Not Here...Not Now, Please!

Steve dragged himself out of bed early that morning, just as a grey drizzle began to fall outside the windows. Bucky had been away for a few days, and Steve hadn’t been Little for longer than that. Not for lack of trying and not for lack of wanting to…just…he couldn’t. Some mental block kept him stuck in Cap Mode to the point where he and Bucky both were sick of it.

He fiddled with the collar of his dress shirt and sighed. The stacks of paperwork he had to fill out for both his most recent few missions and the new recruits he and Natasha had become handlers to were quite frankly, massive. The office they’d put him in was dimly lit, on the basement level, and it smelled of mold. Every so often behind the buzzing of the fluorescent light tubes he could hear the scratching of little mouse feet behind the many cardboard boxes of old files stacked around the sides of the room. The coffee pot occasionally gurgled and fizzled, adding to the honestly depressing atmosphere.

After a few moments of fruitless staring at the little boxes he had to fill in, Steve gave up and yanked a few of the top buttons of his shirt undone. It was humid in the ugly little room with walls painted a shade Steve couldn’t describe as anything other than ‘mucous’ or maybe, if he was feeling a bit more crass, ‘booger-colored’.

He stretched and set the pen down for a moment, squirming lightly. The few cups of coffee he’d had since he’d come in were definitely getting to him. But he wasn’t inclined to get up and go to the toilet now, when he’d almost gotten to the halfway point in the stack. The little boxes and numbers on the papers mocked his bleary vision as he leaned back and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Steve?” he started a little, looking across to the doorway. Natasha was standing there expectantly. “It’s time for our board meeting.” She reminded, and he groaned softly.

“How long have I been sitting here?” he asked. He’d gotten so into the repetition of ticking boxes and writing in basic descriptions of missions that he hadn’t noticed the time getting away from him.

Natasha checked her watch. “Mm, just under five hours.” She gestured to him. “Come walk with me.”

Steve pushed his chair back and ignored another desperate spasm from his bladder as he staggered to his feet. “Tony and Bruce here?” he asked.

She nodded and slipped an arm through his, subtly escorting him. She didn’t quite trust his judgment, he seemed distracted and far too exhausted to find his way through the similar hallways to the meeting room. “Phil drove them in earlier. They’re not quite in their adult minds, but they’re passable enough to get through a meeting without making fart noises every time Agent Hartwell opens his mouth.”

“To be fair, he is a bit of a dick,” Steve declared with a half-yawn.

Natasha smiled softly. “He is.” So what if she maybe, secretly enjoyed it whenever the boys slipped during a meeting and heckled their newest transfer. Hartwell had that indomitable swagger of an agent that didn’t quite think anyone, even a room full of Avengers and senior agents, could compete with his exploits.

Natasha softly tugged on Steve’s arm to stop him, and he blinked down at her quizzically. “Oh,” he said quietly, realizing she’d led him to the lower level conference room as they spoke. “Um, thanks.”

“No problem, big guy,” She fixed the top buttons of his shirt with a little fond smile that was more Aunt Tasha than Agent Romanoff.

Steve had to actively clench his fists to stave off a headspace crash as Natasha finished fiddling with his shirt and patted his bicep warmly, meandering off into the room to have a little chat with Maria before the meeting started.

Steve took a deep breath and had to fight against a quiver in his legs as he forced himself to take a few more steps. “Dammit Rogers, c’mon,” he whispered, taking a few shaky steps towards his seat and plunking himself down just as Phil shepherded Bruce and Tony into the room. Once he’d gotten the two to sit down, Maria started the meeting by laying out their schedule for the week, and then began opening the floor to the board for their own speaking time.

He was sort of proud of himself for making it nearly to the end of the meeting without either peeing himself or interrupting everything by running out during someone’s turn to speak. But as soon as they were dismissed, Steve was making a hasty exit. Once in the hallway it was all he could do not to wet himself then and there. His legs trembled as he walked around the corner, bladder getting weaker by the second as his eyes fixed on the sign down the hallway. Somewhere off behind him he could hear Tony calling for him, but he blocked it out, focused as he was on a singular mission.

As he neared the small single use facility on the corner, he heard urgent feet approaching from behind. A hand shot out to grab his shoulder and it was all he could do not to go full Cap on his ‘assailant’. He turned slowly. “Tony,” he greeted, tone measured. “What do you want? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

Tony’s face went sympathetic as he took his hand off Steve’s shoulder. “Ah, sorry Cap. But duty calls, y’know?” he shrugged softly. “There’s a bathroom on the jet. Coulson says we’re supposed to meet at hanger nine in five minutes.” Tony didn’t wait for a reply as he strode off quickly, Bruce waiting at the end of the hallway for him.

Steve let out a little impatient whine and weighed his options. He was just about to say ‘screw it’ and pee before he left, when someone else called his name. He bit his lip and turned back, resigned as he began his trek down the hall. “Clint.” Steve fell into step beside the agent. “How was Prague?”

Clint shrugged and Steve noted the archer’s taped up fingers and bruised face. “Same old.” He said offhandedly.

“But…harder without Nat there?” Steve guessed, filling in the gaps.

Clint seemed to hunch into himself as they got nearer to the elevator. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound pleased, and Steve knew the feeling. Sometimes you just wanted to be Big, to be able to just…do things with no fear and total competence. But other times it felt too forced to be Big _or_ Little.

“Know the feeling,” he muttered for Clint’s benefit, and the archer’s eyes flashed sympathetic and relieved—glad to find a kindred spirit.

“Stay with me? On the jet?” Clint sounded so desperate for a friend that Steve could hardly say no, even if he was pretty sure at any moment he might burst from the pressure.

“Sure.” He mumbled, as they made their way down and out the elevator towards the large hangar at the end of the hall. Phil waited at the foot of the hatch, Stark-Pad in hand as he ticked off their checklist. Steve could see Natasha in the pilot’s chair already, Tony co-piloting. Coulson tapped his comm. unit as they approached.

“Barton and Rogers are here. Begin clearance to exit.”

He waved them up the ramp and they complied, heading almost mechanically for the bench seat that housed their packs. Steve lifted the seat up and Clint reached down, grabbing both their kits. Steve let it down gently and took his pack from Clint, heading off to the side where they couldn’t be seen by anyone below. It was one thing to have no modesty around teammates, but the entirety of SHIELD was another thing completely. They changed in silence, listening to Natasha run down the checklist over her headset, Tony firing up the engines. A moment later Phil came up the ramp and strapped himself in as the hatch began to raise itself.

“Bucky’s going to do his best to meet us there, but don’t count on it.” He told the team, as Clint strapped himself in beside him.

Steve took a bit longer than usual to get into his tact suit, struggling with hands that suddenly seemed to be shaking. He just couldn’t get the damn buckles to clip together on the first try. The jet was beginning to taxi by the time he’d sat down and strapped in, Phil giving him a reproachful look. “Sorry.” He muttered, shifting a few dozen times as the suit and the buckles cut into him.

Lucky for Steve, adrenaline took over as soon as they landed, and for the moment his problems faded. He truly was in excellent form. Until that kick to the gut. He launched his shield at the baddie and sent him flying, not even waiting for his shield to come back to him before he’d taken off for somewhere safe.

“Steve?”

“Hey, Cap! Where are you going?!”

Steve ignored them in favor of trying his hardest not to completely regress as he rounded the building. It was humiliating enough that he’d started to pee himself before he’d even gotten out of eyesight of the others, but the loud hissing was somehow more embarrassing when it was just him, alone, standing behind a building.

“Anyone have eyes on Steve?” Phil called urgently. “Hawkeye?”

“No, sir. Steve has left my line of vision.” Clint replied breathlessly.

“Anyone?” Phil said in irritation. Now he was on edge. “What’s going on? Steve, can you hear me? _Steve!_ ”

It was a moment before Steve’s comm. crackled to life again. “M’here, sir.” He sounded defeated and a little embarrassed. A few of Widow’s grenades broke the silence before Phil responded.

“What the hell was that, Cap? You can’t just go MIA like that, what if you’d been taken down while you were offline?”

“I’m sorry, Agent Coulson, it won’t happen again.” Steve sounded painfully closed off and formal, appearing again around the building just as Clint picked off the last few threats with some well-placed taser arrows.

Phil knew he was hiding something, but he didn’t have time to press it, instead getting everyone back to the jet. “Widow, you got it?” he asked, as Nat came back up.

She held up the thumb drive. “Got it, boss.”

Clint rushed back onto the jet and mashed at the close button, Tony flying alongside.

“Clint, did you self destruct this again?” Phil asked as they took off.

Clint just gave him a mysterious look, waiting two minutes before the explosion spoke for itself.

“You know how much paperwork—“ Phil began, but Tony cut him off.

“Aw, let him have some fun!” He put in through Phil’s comm. unit.

All through takeoff, Steve had been uncharacteristically silent, standing off to one side. Phil walked over to him. “Steve?” he could smell it, even if Steve wouldn’t admit it. He tugged the boy over to another, quieter corner. “Steve, did you have an accident?” Phil asked softly, raising a brow.

Steve shifted a little and let out a soft whine. “I thought I could make it, but stuff just kept _happening_!” he admitted. “Stupid meeting and then Tony and this and then I couldn’t go on the jet ‘cause…’cause the bathrooms aren’t steady…and then…”

“You just couldn’t go any longer,” Phil broke in with a soft smile. He lay a hand on his shoulder. “I understand that, but maybe next time don’t worry us like that. Wear protection if you have to.” Phil reached up and grabbed a duffle that contained a change of clothes. “Now go and change.”

Steve held the bag to his chest, head ducked in a defeated manner as he locked himself into the bathroom and started to strip off piece by piece of his suit. It wasn’t until he was completely naked that he looked up, only to catch sight of himself in the mirror and realize he hadn’t taken off his cowl or gloves yet. He let out a resigned sigh and peeled the sweaty gloves off, putting them inside the cowl as he set it into the sink for the moment.

Rummaging in the duffel, he pulled out a pack of wipes and set to properly cleaning himself up. He didn’t particularly want to put on a diaper, but rules were rules: he’d had an accident so now he had to wear protection until the day was over. So he taped himself into one, looking through the bag for some of his own clothes. Unfortunately for him, Phil had only packed baby clothes, so he settled for the soft blue tee that proudly proclaimed ‘I LOVE DADDY’ in large letters, with little hearts around the words and the soft grey sweatpants.

Once he’d wiggled his sweaty feet into some socks, he padded back out into the main area, handing Phil back the bag.

“Did you clean up your suit?” Phil asked, and Steve blushed with a little shake of the head. How on earth had he forgotten to do that? “Go on and bag it up, then.” Phil put the duffle back up on the rack and handed Steve a laundry bag.

Steve went back to the bathroom and shoved all the pieces of his suit into the bag, cinching it up so that it could be cleaned later on. He shuffled back and handed the bag to Phil. “Good boy.” Phil said, and pointed to Steve’s empty seat. “Now go and sit down.”

Steve went tritely, strapping himself into the chair and sighing.

“You still don’t feel little, huh?” Clint asked, empathetically. He’d already changed into sweats and a tee.

Steve shook his head. “No.” he said dejectedly.

“Well, maybe if Bucky’s home,” Clint suggested, and Steve shrugged.

“You thought that about Natasha,” he pointed out.

“True. I did. But I’m still hoping.” Clint mumbled, moving away to change out of his suit into something comfortable, Natasha arriving a moment later from the front of the jet to help him.

Steve pouted the entire way there, upset that he couldn’t properly regress when he needed to…but Bucky was right there when the jet landed at the tower, waiting for him in lounge clothes and looking nothing but warm and strong and soft around the edges. A smile grew around his face when he noticed Steve’s clothes, and he put a solicitous hand on Steve’s back, guiding him into the tower. As soon as they got into the elevator together (thankfully alone), Steve fell apart. He couldn’t explain it, he just sort of…snapped. Fell down on the floor and started sobbing.

Bucky stepped in immediately, bending down and hauling Steve into his arms. “Aw, what’s the matter, Bug?” he crooned as he held him tight.

Steve wailed loudly. “Hurts. Had a accident. Tired!” he used the last of his mental energy to try and list off everything that was feeling wrong at the moment.

Bucky shushed him. “I know, baby. I know. But don’t worry,” he ran a hand up and down Steve’s back and carted him upstairs to the nursery. “Daddy’s right here and once we get a nap in you and maybe some food, you’ll be right as rain.” Steve dissolved into a fresh round of tears and Bucky went straight for the bed, putting him down in the crib and crawling in beside him. “It’s okay, Bug,” he insisted softly, curling around Stevie. “I’m right here and things will be better soon.” Steve clung to him tightly and Bucky felt a warmth start up in his chest as he kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep, baby. I love you.”


End file.
